


Hero's Luck

by Zephyr0



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Lighthouses, M/M, descriptions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 09:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18847933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyr0/pseuds/Zephyr0
Summary: Arthur, a lighthouse keeper, finds himself dealing with an injured wizard stupid enough to fly around on a broomstick during a storm.





	Hero's Luck

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoy reading.

Arthur raced up the spiralling staircase, taking two steps at a time. Once he reached the lantern room he doubled over and wheezed, hands clenching his knees as he fought to regain his breath.

No time to waste, though. A storm was coming.

Arthur straightened and closed his eyes, still panting. His fingers tingled as a small flame materialised over his hand, hovering inches above his skin. He made his way over towards the lantern, placing the flame behind the lens. The room burst to life with an orange glow, but not enough to cast light across the sea. So Arthur placed his hand on the lantern and closed his eyes again. Heat scorched his palm and he gritted his teeth.

 _Concentrate._ He did his best to ignore the pain.

And then a yellow beam burst forwards, out of the lighthouse and across the sea. The beam travelled left to right as it spotlighted the black waves slamming against the cliff.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, smiling and his muscles relaxing. His job was done. For now. Unless something went wrong. Hopefully, nothing should.

Arthur walked to the gallery, using magic to keep himself warm as the bitterly cold gale tugged as his hair and clothes. He reached the edge and gripped the steel handrail. It was cold and wet, but Arthur didn’t mind. Instead, he breathed in the sea salt and listened to the waves crashing against the rocks below the cliff.

Arthur had a three-month placement as a lighthouse keeper, and he had only worked two weeks so far. The job was ideal: he was already used to being alone; he could read during the day as much as he liked; he was used to having no company except for passing fairies and ghosts.

He wasn’t lonely, really.

As he continued watching the light flickering across the water, he thought he saw some movement flicker in the distance.

Arthur frowned, squinting through the darkness. Massive black clouds blocked the moon’s light, and he felt some raindrops land on his face. He should go inside. The storm was about to start.

But as he turned around, he saw something in the sky. A flicker of movement. Something was coming towards him—coming fast.

His eyes widened. It was a wizard on a broomstick.

The broomstick twisted, jerked and flipped, tossing the wizard from side to side. Arthur’s heart leapt into his throat and he opened his mouth to yell at them to keep control. But then they came closer and closer to the lighthouse and Arthur thought they were going to crash into it, until the broomstick suddenly jerked right.

They dropped like a meteorite, plunging straight for the massive, hard rocks below the cliff.

Arthur’s stomach tightened. All the air left his lungs.

He lurched forward, stomach hitting the railing, white light bursting from his palms as he thrust his hands towards the wizard and the broomstick. But he moved too slowly. The wizard crashed into the rocks and fell into the water. And then Arthur couldn’t see him.

Arthur raced down the stairs, his heart hammering. He ran out of the lighthouse and onto the beach, forcing himself to run as fast as he could despite his feet sinking into the dry sand.

He screeched to a halt beside the cliff, eyes scanning the area for the wizard and the broomstick. _Where is he, where is he, where is he,_ Arthur thought, his breath coming out in ragged, anxious puffs. His eyes landed on the broomstick floating a few metres away from him, the wood cracked and splintered.

Where was the wizard?

“Hello!” He cupped his hands over his mouth, shouting.

No response.

Arthur’s blood turned to ice and, without thinking, he rushed into the water, hoping the wizard hadn’t-

He saw a lump near a particularly sharp rock, floating face-down in the water.

The wizard.

Arthur ran as fast as he could, stumbling over seaweed and rocks and splashing water into the air until he was forced to swim. Gulping in air, he grabbed the wizard and flipped him over onto his back, hoping he would be able to breathe. Arthur’s breathing turned shallow as he stared at the wizard’s face. The wizard’s eyes were shut, his face ghostly pale, and the water surrounding them had turned red.

Blood? A sinking feeling grew inside Arthur as he pulled the wizard’s arm around his shoulders. He had to get back to the lighthouse. Fast.

He dragged the body back to the shore, doing his best not to trip. By the time they reached the shore Arthur was panting and gasping for breath, his hands shaking and stomach doing somersaults. His shoes squelched against the shallow tide: they felt heavy and he heard water sloshing around inside them, but it was no time to take them out and drain the water.

The lighthouse. He had to take the wizard to the lighthouse.

He raced back to the lighthouse, shivering as the freezing gale pierced into his wet clothes and skin. The wizard was deadweight against Arthur’s shoulders. By the time he managed to drag the larger, heavier man upstairs, Arthur was so exhausted he wanted nothing more than to take a long break. But he couldn’t do that. Grunting, he heaved the man into his chamber and pushed him onto the bed. The bed squeaked and shuddered at the sudden weight.

Wheezing, Arthur whirled around, fingers growing hot as he lit a candle near his bedroom window. A bright light illuminated the dark room, creating large shadows from the bed and the clothes drawer.

Arthur collapsed onto the ground, hunching over and still wheezing. Clutching his stomach, he let himself to catch his breath and wait for the tight ache in his chest to ease a little before he got back to his feet to fetch some spare blankets.

Returning to the man, he peeled the man’s clothes off. He winced. Large gashes covered the man’s torso. He’d have to fix it later. For now, he wrapped the blankets around the man’s body, his palms tingling as he used some magic to help make the man warmer.

A few seconds later, colour returned to the man’s bruised cheeks. His hair started looking drier.

The man was still alive.

Arthur smiled and dropped his head onto the man’s chest, laughing with relief. He was still shivering and dripping water everywhere, but he had to deal with that later. He had to fix the man’s injuries first.

Hopefully, nothing he couldn’t handle.

He pulled the blankets back again, staring at the man’s injuries. He winced again. Shouldn’t be too difficult, but as he glanced at the man’s legs Arthur’s stomach sank. There was a small stick embedded in the man’s skin on his thigh, and his right ankle was swollen.

Arthur was a wizard himself, but he wasn’t a healer. Whilst he knew basic healing spells, he wasn’t a specialist in them. He hoped the man would just have some cuts—it wouldn’t take long to heal, but the ankle would be a problem. He knew how to heal open wounds, but not sprained ankles. Arthur knew he shouldn’t try, in case something went wrong and he made the injuries worse.

He had to improvise, for now.

Arthur retrieved his first aid kit from the bathroom. For now, he would deal with the man’s ankle manually, and then he could call a healer to fix up the man’s wounds via magic.

The first thing he did was pull the stick out of the man’s leg. Grimacing, he thanked his lucky stars it wasn’t too serious; the stick was small and came out relatively easy. And the wizard was lucky he was still unconscious. Arthur tossed the stick outside and closed the wound with a healing spell. The skin closed over.

Arthur wiped down the man’s leg before he moved on to the other cuts. Deciding not to bother using magic on some of the less serious ones, he simply cleaned them and wrapped a bandage around them. As he worked the man groaned in pain.

Arthur froze and glanced back to the man’s face.

The man’s eyes opened and he groaned again, clenching his teeth together and hissing with pain.

“You did this to yourself, you fool.” Arthur shook his head, pulling out a bandage from the kit so he could wrap it around the man’s sprained ankle. “I’ll be back to fetch you some ice. Don’t you dare go anywhere.”

“Wha…” The man’s voice cracked and he trailed off, his eyes glazed as he stared up at the ceiling. But Arthur didn’t hear what else he said, as he was already leaving the room.

Arthur filled a bucket of water and froze the water with a spell. And then he shattered the ice to pieces, using another spell, and wrapped up the broken pieces in a towel. He returned to the man, finding him sitting up with his back leaning against the headboard. He stared at Arthur, with eyes as blue as the sky.

Arthur almost dropped the ice. “Oh. You’re awake.”

“Yeah.” The man frowned. “This is a nice chamber, but where am I? Is this yours?”

“Yes, it is. You’re at a lighthouse. I’m the keeper.”

“Oh!” A grin split across the man’s face and this time, Arthur really _did_ drop the bag of ice. Heat rushed through Arthur’s cheeks as he snatched the ice from the ground, hoping the man didn’t pay attention. The man wasn’t just a foolish idiot, but a foolish _attractive_ idiot with a beautiful smile to boot.

“That must be interesting,” the man continued. “I always wanted to meet a lighthouse keeper. What’s your name? I’m Alfred F. Jones, but you would’ve heard of me later anyway!”

Arthur frowned, shaking his head and glancing at the floor, so he didn’t have to look at the man’s smile. He walked closer and placed the ice onto the man’s ankle. “What do you mean?”

“How far is the dragon from here?”

 _What_ was this idiot on about? Arthur opened his mouth to ask, but then the man bet him to it.

“Yanno, the one that kidnapped Princess Elizabeta! I’m on a quest to save her and bring her back to the Kingdom!”

 _Oh,_ that _dragon,_ Arthur thought. He heard the news yesterday from a fairy. He just didn’t realise this Alfred fellow was talking about the same dragon. “But isn’t Prince Roderich going on a quest to save her? You look like a commoner to me.” _Jones is also a commoner name._

Alfred shrugged. “Who cares? I don’t. But a hero must always be the one to rescue those who need rescuing.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “And that hero is you?”

“Of course!” Alfred gave him another sunny smile. “It’s up to me to protect those who can’t protect themselves, and save those who can’t save themselves.” He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and raking a hand through his damp hair. “That’s why I started teaching myself magic.”

“Oh, you’re self-learnt?” That explained Alfred’s lack of control of a broomstick. At first, Arthur had assumed it was because of the storm. But perhaps even if it wasn’t stormy, Alfred would still struggle controlling it.

Alfred nodded. “Been practising since thirteen, when I realised magic will make me a hero.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. If that were true, that meant Alfred would still be an amateur. Arthur had been practising magic since he was four. Thunder rolled and the rain started, roaring as it pounded against the window.

As if oblivious to the inclement weather, Alfred said, “I should be going.”

“No, you can’t.”

Alfred frowned, the smile fading. “Huh? Why not?”

“You’ve sprained your leg.” Arthur pointed at it. “I’m not a healer, so you’re going to have to wait until I get someone to heal you.”

“Oh.” Alfred collapsed against the headrest, smiling sheepishly at his leg as if he hadn’t noticed it. “Thanks. You’re my hero.”

Arthur stiffened. “I… I couldn’t just leave you out there, idiot or not.”

Alfred’s eyes were warm as he gazed back at Arthur. “But still. Thank you.”

They fell quiet, Alfred still staring at Arthur with those warm blue eyes and that stupid attractive smile and Arthur staring at the floor and feeling like a fool. The storm raged on, the thunder roaring. Light flashed through the room. There was a particularly loud crackle that made the lighthouse tremble.

“Crazy weather, huh?” Alfred broke the silence. He was staring out at the window, where the glass was misted up from the pouring rain.

Arthur murmured in agreement, watching the rain for a moment before turning back to Alfred, his eyes narrowed. “But really, what were you _thinking?_ Flying around in a storm? You’re lucky you didn’t get any worse injuries!”

Alfred smirked. “Hero’s luck, I guess.”

Arthur groaned. He already knew this man would be a pain in the backside, even if he got a doctor to come soon to get him out of Arthur’s hair. “I’m going to contact a doctor and get them to come here to fix you up.”

“Oh.” Alfred nodded, then gave him the thumbs-up. “Thanks, uh…” He trailed off and scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry. Forgot to ask for your name. So… what _is_ your name?”

“Arthur. Arthur Kirkland.”

“Well, thanks, Artie. You’re the best.”

Arthur’s eye twitched. _“Arthur._ Please, spare me of your ridiculous nicknames.”

“Aw.” Alfred pouted, as if he was a child. For a moment, Arthur wondered why he even considered this man attractive in the first place. “But I give all my friends nicknames.”

 _Friends? That was fast._ Arthur shifted his weight from one foot to the other, averting his gaze at the ground. A sinking feeling gnawed at his stomach.

He wanted friends—wanted human friends so badly, but…

“So? Can I?” Arthur felt the weight of Alfred’s hopeful gaze on him.

Arthur shook his head. “No, we’re not friends. I’m going to contact the healer now.”

Alfred blinked slowly. Arthur turned around and left the room.

Fairies made good friends, but they travelled around too much and Arthur often lost contact with them. Ghosts left whenever they solved their unfinished business.

He and friends didn’t work well.

So Arthur wasn’t going to take the risk.

 

***

 

“What do you mean, _you can’t come?”_ Arthur inhaled sharply, glaring down at the tiny, flickering image of Doctor Bonnefoy in one of the lighthouse’s windows.

Doctor Bonnefoy shrugged, looking too nonchalant for Arthur’s liking. “Sorry, _mon cher,_ but the storm’s too fierce.” His voice was also weirdly light.

“Too _fierce?”_ Arthur’s palms itched.

“Yes. You see, the rain will wreck my hair. I can come after it passes after-”

“Like hell you will!” His anger boiling over, Arthur kicked a stray chair. Sparks burst from the chair as it skidded across the room, slamming into a wall with enough force it left a small dent. And then the pain in Arthur’s toes snapped him out of his anger. Doctor Bonnefoy faded from the window.

Wincing, Arthur sighed and slumped down onto the ground. He contacted the closest healer, hoping they would still be able to come, but apparently not. Couldn’t Doctor Bonnefoy just produce a spell to keep himself from getting wet?

“Arthur? You okay?”

Arthur lifted his head, eyes widening when he noticed Alfred leaning slumped against the doorway, keeping all his weight off his sprained ankle.

“What are you doing?” Arthur glared at him. “You’re meant to be lying down!”

Alfred rolled his eyes. “Sorry, mom.”

Arthur rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking sharp intakes of breath. “Come here!” He stomped towards Alfred and grabbed his arm, dragging him back to the chamber.

“So what happened with the healer?” Alfred asked as he hopped along, keeping his injured foot from the ground.

“He doesn’t want to come because of the storm,” Arthur said, as a particularly loud rumble roared overhead. “Apparently, he’s incapable of casting some magic to protect himself from the rain!”

Alfred chuckled as they entered the room, and Arthur whirled to face him.

“What?” They both said at the same time—Arthur accusingly, Alfred innocently.

They continued staring at each other for a moment, before Alfred rolled back his shoulders, smirked and said, “I didn’t expect you’d care about me so much already that you screamed at the healer.”

Arthur froze. _Damn it!_ Hoping his face hadn’t gone red, he spluttered, “I’m… I’m not doing it for you!”

Alfred raised an eyebrow.

“It’s… it’s for Princess Elizabeta. You’re going to save her, right?”

Alfred smiled, and looking at it made Arthur’s heart skip a beat. He cursed inwardly. “That’s right,” Alfred said as he dropped back onto the bed and lay down, Arthur helping him elevate his broken leg. “So, what’s your plan? How are we going to fix this?” Alfred gestured to his leg.

“I can’t heal it. If the doctor still won’t come, even when the storm passes, we’re just going to have to let it heal by itself.”

“How long will that take?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe a couple of weeks.”

“Oh.” Alfred glanced at his hands. “But I don’t think Princess Elizabeta can wait that long. Can’t you fix it? I never bothered with healing spells.”

“I know a couple basic healing spells, but nothing that’ll fix a sprained ankle.”

“But you _could_ still try, right?” Alfred peered up at him, biting his lip.

Arthur shook his head. “Unless you want your leg to turn into a chicken head, I suggest not.”

Alfred cringed. “Okay, I understand. But I can’t just sit here doing nothing. What about Princess Elizabeta?”

“I’m sure the prince has something planned,” Arthur said.

Alfred fell silent and stared out of the window, his brow furrowed, as if not convinced. “But can’t I just go even with a sprained ankle?”

“And how will you fight a dragon with a sprained ankle? If you want it to heal, you have to rest it.”

“Dumb ankle,” Alfred sighed and muttered, glaring across at it.

 _"You’re_ the one who went flying in a storm.”

Alfred smiled. “I’m not afraid of a little rain.”

“But still! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?”

“What? I’m still alive.” Alfred shrugged. He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, “Well, you’re gonna have to get me a new broomstick, then.”

“You do have the money, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll pay you back.”

“And no flying in storms again, you hear me?”

“Now I can’t promise you that.” Alfred winked.

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could already feel a headache coming on from this man’s idiocy.

“Okay,” Arthur said after a moment. “Just… just keep your ankle elevated and if you need anything, just call for my name. I’ll be back later.”

He turned and left the room.

_I need a drink._

***

 

The prospect of drinking alone in a lighthouse, of all things, seemed pathetic to Arthur at first, but by the time he downed his second bottle of rum he no longer cared.

“You hear me?” He stood on the gallery, the rain bucketing down and the wind tearing at his hair and clothes. “I’m back, and I’m not afraid of anything! I’m Arthur Bloody Kirkland and I can beat you in a duel any day!” He tipped his head back and sculled the rum. It burned its way down Arthur’s throat, but his body still ached for more and more.

He swayed a little, feeling lightheaded. The world around him spun, and an acidic taste rose inside his throat. He threw the empty bottle of rum into the sea, and it smashed against one of the rocks.

Thunder crackled. He jumped. “What was that?” he shouted at the sky. “You want to fight me?”

A hand clasped over his arm. Arthur turned and swung blindly—someone caught his arm and Arthur growled, swinging with his other hand.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” The person caught the other hand.

Arthur blinked. His eyes landed on a familiar face, standing inches from his. The person was taller than him by a few inches. Arthur came up to their eyes.

“Who are you?” Arthur muttered. “What do you want?”

The face chuckled. “It’s me, Alfred.”

“Ahlfred,” Arthur echoed, shaking his head. “Donnut no any Ahlfreds.” He glanced back across the sea.

“Come on, come back inside. You’ll fall over the balcony, or you’ll catch a cold standing out in this rain.”

Arthur shrugged, letting Alfred lead him back inside the lighthouse. He vaguely took note that Alfred was limping, but he chose not to question it.

“I’m not pissssed,” he said, drawing out the last word.

Alfred frowned. “No, you’re not pissed.”

“That’s right.” Arthur gave a brief node and stumbled forward, swaying.

“Now look at you. You’re soaked.” Alfred hopped over to walk by Arthur’s side, grabbing Arthur’s arm to loop around his shoulders.

“Don’t touch me.” Arthur curled his lip back and shrugged off Alfred’s arm. To make a point, he took another step forward, but then the world around him spun again and he lurched forward. His feet went unsteady. The ground reached up to meet him and-

He stopped, inches above the ground.

“Watch yourself, you can’t walk properly.” His vision had gone dark. Someone was gripping at his waist. Muscular arms. They helped him back up.

“You okay?” A voice near his ear. Their breath tickled.

“Mmm-hmm.” Arthur ran his hands over the muscular arms. “Fine, fine.” He turned and looked—that Alfred lad again.

“Here, I’ll take you back to your room.” This time, when Alfred wrapped Arthur’s arm around his shoulder, Arthur didn’t protest. He fell against Alfred’s side, breathing in his smell. Alfred felt warm and solid. A hot tingle rushed through Arthur’s body. He glanced sideways, making eye contact with Alfred’s beautiful blue eyes.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled, before his vision turned black and he hit something hard. But Arthur didn’t care. The world was still spinning and he felt ill.

 

***

 

Arthur woke in a dark room with a splitting headache.

He groaned, reaching up and shoving his pillow over his ears. There was a strange buzzing in his ears, and his head felt as if it was going to split into two.

The door opened and someone stomped into the room.

“Shut up.” Arthur winced.

“I didn’t say anything,” someone shouted.

“I said shut up! Stop shouting!”

“Arthur, I’m not shouting. _You’re_ shouting.”

Arthur grabbed the pillow and hurled it at the source of noise, both pillow and his fingers crackling with yellow sparks.

There was an “oof!” and a scramble somewhere beside him, before a loud thud sounded through the room and a yelp.

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and wished his head would stop hurting.

 

***

 

“I apologise for my ghastly behaviour earlier.” Arthur sat down on the end of the bed, glancing across at Alfred. Alfred bit his lip as he lounged across the bed, his ankle propped up on a cushion.

Alfred shook his head. “No, it’s fine.”

Arthur’s eyes burned; his head hurt, but not as bad as before. Was he still hung over? Probably, but his symptoms were fading. But he was tired— _very_ tired—it was almost six a.m. and he hadn’t got proper sleep, and he doubted Alfred had, either. Indeed, Alfred’s eyes were bloodshot and he had bags under his eyes.

“You should get some rest,” Arthur said.

“Yeah, I guess.” Alfred yawned, then grinned. “Hey, can you come here? Closer?”

Arthur frowned, but obeyed. A twinkle gleamed in Alfred’s eyes as Arthur leaned closer and closer.

“Bit closer,” Alfred said.

Arthur leaned even closer; the two were close enough that their bodies were almost pressed together, and Arthur hovered inches above Alfred’s lap. His breath caught in his throat and his heart skipped a beat as he gazed at Alfred.

Alfred grabbed the pillow his back was resting on and-

SMACK!

Arthur jerked sideways and Alfred was laughing.

“Payback!” he said, still laughing.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you’re going to get it, Jones.” He hopped off the bed and reached into the closet, pulling out another pillow. “And let me tell you, I don’t like losing.”

Alfred’s face lit up. He lunged for Arthur, but trying to stop himself from landing on his ankle, he twisted awkwardly and almost toppled onto the ground.

This time, it was Arthur’s turn to laugh. “Careful with your leg, lad.” He grabbed Alfred’s arm and pulled him back up. Alfred was pouting, his face flushed pink.

“Thanks,” he said, glancing at his pillow again. Then he smacked Arthur across the face with his pillow.

"That’s how you thank me?” Arthur hit him back.

 

***

 

Arthur dropped back onto the mattress, panting and chest heaving. He knew he had lost; Alfred had been the one who hit him the most, and he swore he’d have bruises on him tomorrow from Alfred’s freakish strength. But despite that, he found himself beaming, and there was a giggle bubbling in his chest he struggled to keep down.

Alfred dropped beside Arthur, laughing and panting too. He clutched his pillow to his chest as he rolled onto his side to smirk at Arthur.

“And the hero wins!”

Arthur scowled at him, but it was a struggle to keep the scowl. “You only won because I let you. I didn’t want your injuries getting worse.”

Alfred rolled his eyes. “Sure, Art, sure.”

Arthur hit him across the chest with his pillow, but Alfred just laughed. His face was flushed as he turned to look at Arthur again, his eyes widening a little. Arthur swore Alfred was staring at Arthur’s lips.

“What?” Arthur said, eyes narrowing at the weird expression Alfred had on his face.

Alfred flinched and looked away, his face growing even redder. “N-nothing.”

Arthur continued gazing at him with suspicion, until he finally sighed and sat up. “Well, you should be getting some rest. You’ll heal faster. Enough excitement for one night. I’m really tired.”

“Me too.” Alfred yawned and rolled onto his back, glancing back at Arthur. “Night.”

“Goodnight,” Arthur said, watching as Alfred closed his eyes. A few seconds later, Alfred had started snoring.

Arthur sighed again, moving off the bed. He looked back at Alfred, biting his lip. Alfred looked peaceful as he slept, with his soft blond hair messy and some strands falling across his brow. He resisted the urge to reach forward and run his hands through Alfred’s hair. It looked so soft.

Arthur’s breath caught in his chest as he stared down at Alfred, unable to tear his gaze away. Alfred was truly the most beautiful human he had ever seen.

He turned away sharply, face flushing scarlet, and embarrassed at himself for such a thought. He hadn’t even known the man for a full day yet, and he was already feeling bloody attracted to him.

May the gods have mercy on his soul.

 

***

 

Arthur slept till noon, his back hurting from having slept on the sofa. After all, an injured, foolish wizard already occupied the only bed in the lighthouse, and Arthur would rather throw himself off the gallery than sleep in the same bed said injured, foolish wizard who was also unfairly attractive was asleep in.

When Arthur checked in on Alfred around one, he found Alfred still sleeping.

Arthur sighed, glancing at Alfred’s ankle. It would need ice and bandaging soon. So he froze more water and rolled up Alfred’s trouser leg, finding some bandages he could use to bind the ankle. He wrapped the bandage around Alfred’s ankle. His face flared. Alfred’s skin felt soft, and he could feel the muscles in his leg.

Arthur’s accidental touching seemed to rouse Alfred. Arthur finished and pulled back, his mouth going a little dry. He watched as Alfred rubbed his eyes and groaned, sitting up. “Oh, hello.” He ran a hand through his messy hair. “What time is it?”

“Noon,” Arthur said.

“Oh.” Alfred sank back down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. An awkward silence settled between the two.

Fidgeting, Arthur glanced towards the door, licking his lips. “Uh, I should get some ice.”

As he turned to leave the room, Alfred lifted his head. “Wait, does my ankle look any better today?”

Arthur paused and glanced back. Alfred was gazing at him with a hopeful expression, biting his bottom lip. Arthur took a deep breath and shook his head. Alfred’s face fell and Arthur’s heart felt a little heavy.

“It’ll take more than just a day,” Arthur said, his voice apologetic. His gaze drifted to the floor. “All the excitement from yesterday probably made it worse.” Hoping it would cheer him up, Arthur added, “Maybe we can get you to start walking in about a week, how about that?”

Alfred’s face brightened a little. “Yeah, I’ll like that. But don’t leave me, okay? It’s boring just being here in one place.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stick around then. I’ll only have to leave when I’ve got lighthouse duties to attend to. I’ll see if I got any books you could read.”

Alfred crinkled his nose. “Ugh, fine. Thanks.”

Rolling his eyes, Arthur went and retrieved some books for Alfred. He dumped them at the foot of the bed—most of them were thick novels.

“They’re good ones. I recommend them.”

Alfred picked up one of the books, frowning down at it. “I’m not going to be able to read through this.”

“Not a reader?” He didn’t really need to ask the question—Arthur already figured it out himself.

Alfred shook his head. “Like, no offence or anything. I’m guessing you like reading.”

“Yes, I do,” Arthur said, sitting down at the foot of Alfred’s bed. “I love reading. It’s why I came here. So I could read in peace.”

“Well, that makes sense, I guess.” Alfred looked up from the book and smiled.

Arthur’s swallowed and glanced away, his stomach flipping. There was that smile again.

           

***

 

The next morning, Arthur returned to Alfred and found he was already awake.

“Hey, Arthur?” Alfred was leaning against the headboard, an open book pressed down across his knee. “Have you heard anything about Princess Elizabeta?”

Arthur shook his head. “Sorry, but no.”

“Oh.” Alfred’s shoulders slumped and he looked down, biting the inside of his mouth. Arthur frowned and approached Alfred, crouching beside him and grasping his shoulder.

“Are you okay?” His voice was quiet.

Alfred clenched his fists. “It’s not me, it’s her.” His voice sounded strained, and he kept his gaze forward, as if refusing to meet Arthur’s eyes. “I just…”

“Go on.” Arthur smiled softly, hoping it would encourage him to continue.

“I’m meant to be the hero, and yet I’m stuck here with this stupid ankle.” He jabbed his finger at his ankle, which Arthur needed to re-bandage. He shook his head, running both hands through his hair with a huff.

Arthur sighed, glancing away. Guilt gnawed at his stomach. “Oh. I didn’t… I didn’t realise you didn’t want to stay here. I apologise, I shouldn’t have-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong!” At last, Alfred finally looked at him. There was a strange look in Alfred’s eyes, one that Arthur hadn’t seen yet in the other man. “It’s just that I feel useless just lying in bed when she’s in trouble.”

Arthur opened his mouth, but Alfred continued, “Really, Arthur, I’m grateful for all you’ve done. It’s just me and my stupid guilt about this stupid ankle. Some hero I am.” He let out an incredulous laugh.

“Alfred-”

“I think I should leave today, though.” Alfred glanced at him. “If that’s alright with you.”

His words made Arthur’s chest clench. “Of… of course it is, Alfred. I don’t recommend it, but I’m not the boss of you. I can’t force you to stay.”

“Do you have a bath? I should have one before I leave.”

Arthur nodded. “Yes, that would be wise. You stink. Would you like one now?”

Alfred nodded. “Thank you.” He pulled his duvet back and swung his legs off the mattress. But as he stood, Alfred shrieked with pain and stumbled forward.

Arthur swallowed a gasp as he grabbed Alfred by the arm, stopping him from toppling to the ground. Heart racing he pulled Alfred back to the bed, pushing him onto the mattress.

“What happened? Are you…” His voice broke off, his eyes widening. Alfred was grimacing, clenching his sprained ankle.

“I’m okay,” Alfred said, through clenched teeth. “I just put too much weight on my ankle when I stood. I’ll be careful.”

“Alfred, are you really sure this is wise?”

“What do you expect me to _do,_ Arthur?” He glanced up at Arthur, blowing hair out of his eyes. “I can’t stay for a few weeks. I gotta go. I can’t leave Princess Elizabeta for a few weeks. What if the dragon eats her?”

Arthur sighed. “I understand, I really do. But Alfred, this doesn’t look good. At all. If you aggravate it too much, it won’t heal properly.”

“But I can’t just sit around and do nothing for weeks!” Alfred tried standing, but Arthur pushed him back onto the mattress.

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have gone flying around in a storm. Maybe then you never would’ve sprained your ankle.”

“And maybe if you weren’t such a coward and use magic, I would’ve left a long time ago!”

Silence. Arthur stared, his mind going blank. Alfred, realising what he just said, slapped a hand over his mouth. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Arthur huffed and turned away, marching towards the door.

“Do what you like, Alfred. I don’t care.” He didn’t bother looking at Alfred as he left the chamber.

 

***

 

The two didn’t speak for the rest of the day. Arthur heard Alfred upstairs, with his footsteps heavy against the floorboards. He heard the sound of running water and figured Alfred must’ve found his way to the bathtub. Arthur hoped, for the idiot’s sake, he wouldn’t keep his ankle submerged in hot water.

For the rest of the day, Arthur read by the fireplace and walked around the beach. It was an overcast day, grey thick clouds heavy in the sky. The wind was crisp and cold, even under the three layers Arthur wore.

He struggled to swallow, and he couldn’t stop shaking. The heavy ache in his chest didn’t subside. The waves roared as they crashed against rocks. It seemed as if there was going to be another storm tonight.

He found a place near the edge of the beach, where the shore narrowed towards a cave. Water leaked through the cave’s mouth. Arthur sat by the cave, watching the waves and breathing in the heavy stench of sea salt.

He returned when the sun dropped to the horizon, painting the sky orange and pink. Alfred had somehow made his way downstairs. He sat on Arthur’s chair by the fireplace, eating some bread.

The two glanced at each other, but didn’t speak. Arthur’s eyes shifted to Alfred’s ankle. It was wrapped up in a fresh bandage (Arthur assumed Alfred must’ve done it himself), but it wasn’t elevated. He opened his mouth to tell Alfred to keep it elevated, but he let the words die on his tongue.

If Alfred was going to make his ankle worse, Arthur told himself he didn’t care.

He walked past, feeling the weight of Alfred's gaze resting heavy against his back. 

 

***

 

To Arthur’s surprise, Alfred didn’t leave. He woke every morning with a glance into his bedroom, to find Alfred sleeping under the covers. Occasionally he heard Alfred stumbling around upstairs. Every time, Alfred wore a bandage. Occasionally, Alfred had ice wrapped in a towel. Despite his frustration with Alfred, Arthur was still impressed with Alfred’s determination to move around.

On Alfred’s fifth night, Arthur settled down on his sofa. The room was dark, just like Arthur liked it. Pulling his blanket up to his chin, Arthur squirmed uncomfortably so he could lie on his side.

And then light burst into the room.

And a familiar voice yelled.

Arthur groaned, as someone grabbed the blanket and pulled it off him. Sitting up and trying to retrieve it, his eyes landed on Alfred standing over him, clutching the blanket to his chest. He kept his weight off his ankle with a brook, and his eyes were narrowed into a glare as he stared down at Arthur.

“What?” Arthur asked.

“What the hell are you _doing here?”_

Arthur stared at him, incredulous. “I’m writing poetry. Really Alfred, isn’t it obvious to you I’m sleeping?” _Or, at least,_ trying _to._

“No, on the sofa! Why aren’t you sleeping in a bed?”

“There are no other beds in this place. You’re sleeping in the only one.”

“I noticed that.” Alfred crossed his arms. His eyes narrowed. “Come with me.”

Arthur frowned. “Why?”

“You’re not staying here.” Without waiting for Arthur’s response, Alfred grabbed Arthur’s arm and pulled him to his feet.

“Excuse me, what are you doing?” Did his voice go up a pitch?

“I’m going back to bed,” Alfred said. “And you’re coming with me.”

Arthur’s mouth fell open, too stunned to speak. Alfred’s words echoed around his head as he watched as Alfred hobbled back towards the stairs. The bed was a double bed, big enough to fit two people, but…

No way in _hell_ was Arthur sleeping in the same bed as his secret crush!

“Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve been sleeping on the sofa the whole time! I’m fine there!”

“No, you’re sleeping in the bed.” Alfred glanced back over his shoulder. “You can’t sleep on the sofa.”

“Fine, I’ll sleep on the floor, then.”

“No, that’s even worse. You’re sleeping in the bed. If anything, _I’ll_ sleep on the floor.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! You’re injured! You can’t sleep on the floor! As my guest, I won’t allow it!”

The two glared at each other, Arthur’s face red and his heart hammering, and Alfred with narrowed eyes and gritted teeth.

“And weren’t you suppose to leave?” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t spoken to me in days, and _this_ is the first thing you say to me?”

 _“I_ haven’t spoken to you?” Alfred let out a forced laugh. _“I_ haven’t spoken to you? I’ve been _trying_ to speak to you for days, but you’ve been ignoring me!”

Arthur gazed at him, his eyes narrowed. “Talk to me? About what?”

Alfred glanced away, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That’s why I haven’t left, yet. I’m the hero, and I couldn’t leave without saying sorry for upsetting you. That’s something heroes just don’t do.”

Arthur stared at him, his mouth going dry. Alfred continued staring at the ground, his cheeks pink. Taking a deep breath, Arthur said, “I…” His voice sounded a little choked, so he took another deep breath and tried again, “I’m… I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have brought up the storm.” He sighed, rolling back onto his heels. “I tried calling the healer again. He didn’t want to come because I yelled at him last time.” He let out a shaky chuckle. “I’m really sorry for ruining things for you.”

Alfred finally lifted his gaze, meeting Arthur’s. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, but then he gave Arthur a soft smile and warmth bloomed inside Arthur’s chest. “It’s fine, I would’ve reacted the same way.”

“I can try contacting another one if you like,” Arthur said. “I’m not sure where they are, but I’ll do my best.”

Alfred nodded. “Thanks.” He paused for a moment, before adding, “Now, come on. You’re going to bed—and an _actual_ bed.”

“I told you, I’m fine here.”

“No, you’re not. The bed’s big enough to fit two. What, do you think I’m going to murder you in your sleep?” Alfred laughed.

Arthur’s face flushed. _That’s not it._ The image of him and Alfred lying together in the same bed caused a shiver to run down his spine.

“Come on, then, what are you so afraid of?” Alfred smirked at him.

Arthur sighed, knowing he would regret it tomorrow. “Fine.”

Alfred chuckled and made his way back to the stairs. Arthur followed, his mouth dry and his hands shaking. Nerves twisted inside his stomach and his hands had gone clammy.

“Are you okay?” Alfred glanced back at Arthur over his shoulder, his eyes widening in alarm. He reached out and touched Arthur on the forehead. Arthur flinched. Alfred’s hand felt warm against his skin. “Do you have a cold or something?”

Arthur stepped back out of Alfred’s reach, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Really? You’re shivering.” He glanced at Arthur’s hands. Before Arthur could react, Alfred reached forward, grabbing Arthur’s hands and cupping them in his warm ones, as if trying to warm them up.

Arthur yelped, his face going bright red. He jerked back, breaking contact with Alfred. “I said, I’m fine.” He pushed past Alfred, deciding to change the subject. “Do you need my help getting up the stairs.”

“No, I managed these past few days.”

“Well, if you’re sure, then.”

They made their way up, Arthur in the lead, Alfred struggling behind him. Entering the bedroom, Arthur’s nerves spiked. He squirmed, his gaze darting around. Alfred paused by the other side of the bed.

“Is something the matter?” Alfred frowned at him.

Arthur licked his lips. “No, no, I’m fine. Just go to sleep, will you?”

“Only if you sleep in the bed.”

“I already said fine! Just go to sleep before I change my mind!”

Alfred sighed, pulling back the covers and climbing in. He gave Arthur a pointed look. Heart hammering, Arthur sat down onto the mattress and pulled his legs up, settling down against the pillow. He made sure he was lying at the edge, not wanting to cross too far over onto Alfred’s side.

The mattress shifted and dipped as Alfred lay down beside him. Even though Arthur lay with his back to Alfred, he had a weird hunch that Alfred was grinning. Arthur clutched his hands together under his pillow, his muscles tight and feeling hyper-aware of his body. How close were him and Alfred?

“Night, Arthur.” Alfred shifted again, the mattress bouncing a little.

Arthur hesitated. “Goodnight, Alfred.”

Arthur lay frozen, unable to sleep. His mind was racing, and his heart wouldn’t stop hammering. Even after a few minutes, Alfred had already started snoring a few minutes ago.

Could he sneak out of the bed and go back to the sofa? Now that Alfred was asleep, and probably wouldn’t notice?

The mattress dipped and bounced. Arthur sucked in a breath. A hand brushed against his shoulder blade. Arthur jumped, about to shy away, but then Alfred slid closer with a huff, wrapping an arm around Arthur’s side and pulling Arthur into his chest.

Arthur’s body went rigid, his face boiling and heart hammering hard enough he wondered if it was going to burst from his chest. _I can’t move,_ he realised with a sinking feeling, feeling both annoyed at himself for giving in to Alfred and… excited? Happy?

Arthur continued lying still. The whisper of Alfred’s gentle breathing tickled his neck, and he could feel Alfred’s chest rise and fall.

Arthur lay awake in bed all night, unsure if he should hate himself for enjoying the feeling of being in Alfred’s arms because Alfred was going to leave any day, or humiliated that his crush was sleeping like _this_ him without realising.

His eyes and head ached as the night progressed, but even when he closed his eyes Arthur still couldn’t fall asleep. Even when Alfred grunted, shifted, and turned over, breaking their contact.

 

***

 

As the morning light bled into the room, Arthur sat up, rubbing his aching head. There was a soft buzz in his ears, and nausea rolled inside the pit of his stomach. He glanced across the dark room, his eyes landing on Alfred. Alfred lay on his back, arms and legs splayed and mouth gaping open as he snored.

Arthur sighed and pulled himself out of the bed. Staggering, he left the room and made his way downstairs. Transparent dots floated across his vision. Groggily, he shuffled towards the kitchen, making himself a tea.

Hopefully he would feel fine after a tea.

 

***

 

The days blended into one another. Alfred remained at the lighthouse—they never spoke about when he was leaving, and Alfred didn’t bring Princess Elizabeta up. Every morning, Arthur changed Alfred’s bandages and gave him some frozen ice. They often sat together during the day, talking about their lives. Well, more like Alfred did, anyway. The other man spoke so much he pretty much talked Arthur’s ear off. They continued sleeping in the same bed together.

They got to know each other pretty well. Alfred’s favourite animal was the bald eagle. He enjoyed burgers, often contemplated the existence of extra terrestrials (which Arthur found stupid), and, to Arthur’s surprise, he also had an interest in archaeology. He also had a twin brother called Matthew who had a different surname—why, Arthur didn’t know, but Alfred told him the most important details: they looked the same but they were apparently opposites, and apparently Matthew was a demon disguised as an angel, in Alfred’s words. Alfred also once won a duel against another wizard named Ivan Braginsky, who was one of the strongest wizards in his community. Alfred’s favourite colour was red, white and blue, and the ‘F’ in his name actually stood for Franklin, not Fucking as he liked to joke about.

In return, Arthur opened up to Alfred about his interests. About his family and his four brothers, about his supernatural friends (which Alfred teased him about), and about his love for tea. Alfred had rolled his eyes and cracked a joke about coffee being superior, which earned him a smack on the head with a pillow that made Alfred burst out laughing.

Alfred also learnt just how amazing Arthur’s cooking was.

The first meal was toast—black toast, but Arthur liked to think it just added to the flavour. Alfred gave Arthur the thumbs-up when he ate one of the slices.

But Arthur thought he did look a little green afterwards, which Alfred dismissed as just the lighting. Either way, Alfred telling him his food was good, after his whole life going with people telling him how disgusting his food was, made Arthur’s chest feel warm, and he smiled for the rest of the day. And Alfred had just stared at him, his cheeks red and a weird expression on his face.

Arthur was so glad Alfred liked his food.

After a week, Arthur decided to bake a cake. A sponge cake, with vanilla frosting. Nothing too fancy, in case Alfred didn’t like it.

Alfred had looked a little surprised when he staggered downstairs and found Arthur baking, but he didn’t comment about it. It wasn’t until Arthur walked up to him and shoved a thick slice towards him.

Alfred stared down at it. “What’s this?”

“Cake.”

“I know it’s cake.” He frowned and picked up the spoon. “Uh, I’ll pass.”

“Just try it.” Arthur grabbed his own slice.

Eyeing Arthur with narrowed eyes, Alfred took a reluctant bite. Arthur watched, waiting. As Alfred swallowed, his eyes widened and Arthur swore he moaned a little.

“Whoa.” Alfred stared at Arthur. “How… this tastes amazing.”

Arthur smiled, his chest growing warm. “I’m glad you like it.”

Alfred stared at Arthur’s face, his cheeks turning red. Arthur noticed Alfred doing that a lot lately, but he didn’t choose to question it. Maybe it was because he liked the cake so much. Instead, the two continued eating the cake in silence.  

 

***

 

However, their fights were also numerous.

“Why do you have no coffee?” Alfred pouted one day as he peered into Arthur’s tea drawer, after a week at being at Arthur’s lighthouse.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I’ve already told you how much I think coffee is horrendous. Why would I have coffee?”

Alfred shot Arthur an offended look. “It tastes better than your disgusting hot tea leaf drink!”

“Whatever! I also have a box of hot chocolate, just drink that!”

Alfred scowled, but pulled out the box of hot chocolate. “I’d prefer coffee, thanks.”

“Well, I don’t have any! You’re just going to have to deal with it!” To emphasise his point, Arthur chose that moment to take a sip of his tea.

Alfred glared at him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? I’m the guest.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I can’t bow to your every whim just because you’re a guest.”

Being separated from each other for a few hours often allowed them to work off steam, and they moved on from that argument to going back to being friends again.

 _Friends…_ It was a weird concept for Arthur to think of, but he supposed, after being stuck in the same lighthouse as this idiot 24/7, had made them friends. He berated himself for it every day for allowing himself getting close to the idiotic fool. After all, once Alfred fully healed, he’d go save the princess, return to home, and marry her himself. He’d end up forgetting Arthur.

Arthur knew he was in for a world of mental pain. His dumb attraction to Alfred was only making things worse; and, to Arthur’s horror, the more time he had spent with Alfred had only made his attraction worse.

One evening, Arthur entered Alfred’s room and found Alfred sitting at the edge of the bed.

“Hey, Arthur?” Alfred glanced over. “I wanna try walking. By myself.”

Arthur frowned. “You sure you’re up to it?”

Alfred nodded. “The swelling’s gone down, quite a lot. I think I should be fine.”

Arthur sighed. Something about the situation made his heart feel a little heavy. He understood Alfred’s desire to leave as soon as he could to rescue Elizabeta, and he had no problem with this—but he just wasn’t looking forward to parting with Alfred. “Sure, okay. I’ll be here in case you need help.”

“Thanks.” Alfred smiled his usual beautiful smile, and then clenched his jaw, his brow furrowing. Groaning he pulled himself to his feet, wincing a little.

“You okay?” Arthur lurched towards him, placing his hand on Alfred’s shoulder.

“Okay,” Alfred said. He limped forward. “It’s… it’s getting better. I wanna go outside.” He glanced towards the window. “It looks as if it’s a beautiful night.”

“You mean onto the gallery?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, alright, if you think you can manage.”

And Alfred did manage, albeit with a slight limp. Arthur didn’t rush, walking slowly by Alfred’s side. But despite his ankle still wasn’t fully healed yet, there was a twinkle in Alfred’s gorgeous blue eyes, and a small smile on his face.

Heat bloomed in Arthur’s chest, and he kept his gaze on the floor. He’d be able to look at Alfred’s face all day.

The air was still, with tiny stars dotting the navy blue sky. The full moon hung over the sea, printing a hazy silver reflection across the black waves.

“It sure looks great up here, huh.” Alfred hobbled towards the railing, leaning across it. Arthur followed, standing a few inches away.            

“Yeah.” The two stood still, listening as the waves kissed the rocks beneath the cliff. The lighthouse’s golden beacon flickered across the waves, even though it was a calm night.

“Do you reckon you’ll miss it when your contract’s up?” Alfred kept his gaze on the sea.

“I suppose.” Arthur didn’t know how he’ll feel about leaving the lighthouse. He did enjoy the solitude, and he wasn’t looking forward to going back to live in the village. And he wasn’t sure what he’d do with his life afterwards.

But at the same time, he did enjoy Alfred’s company—probably a bit too much, he realised with an ache in his heart.

Alfred glanced at him, looking worried. “Are you cold?”

Arthur shook his head.

“Oh, good.” Alfred leaned back, clenching the railing. He kept his gaze on Arthur, and nudged his shoulder. “I’m going to leave. Soon.”

“Oh.” Arthur’s heart felt heavy. He swallowed thickly, feeling a knot in his throat.

Alfred smirked. “Hey, no need to worry. I’m the hero. I’ll live, and hey, I might drop in to see you after I rescue Princess Elizabeta.”

Arthur’s head swivelled in Alfred’s direction. “Pardon?”

“I’ll come back?” Alfred turned to face him, a small smile on his face. His blue eyes softened as he gazed back at Arthur, his cheeks red.

Arthur realised, with a jolt, just how close they were standing. Maybe only a couple of inches. He was certainly close enough that he could easily lean in and close the gap between them, and press his lips against-

 _No! Don’t think that!_ Heat burst across his face and he shook his head.

“Oh.” Alfred’s shoulders drooped and he lowered his gaze. “I… I didn’t realise. Sorry, then. I won’t intrude anymore.”

Arthur frowned for a moment, wondering what Alfred was talking about, and then his stomach did a flip.

“No, no!” He grabbed Alfred’s shoulders, clenching them. He hoped it wasn’t out of desperation. “I’m… I’m fine with you coming back! I was just…” His voice trailed off, unwilling to voice the turmoil inside him.

“I-I mean,” he continued, his face still flushed, hoping Alfred wouldn’t interpret it to mean something _else—_ something far more mortifying. “I don’t particularly care or anything, but you’re still welcome to come back. If you want, that is.” He coughed.

Alfred gazed at him for a moment, then a smile broke across his face. He let out a small chuckle. “Alright. I’ll come back and see you. I promise you that.”

Arthur let out a long breath. Alfred reached up, hooking his arms around Arthur’s back and pulling Arthur towards him. Arthur’s heart did a somersault as Alfred hugged him.

“Thank you, Arthur,” Alfred whispered into his ear.

Arthur’s face felt as if it was on fire. Reluctantly, he reached up and hug Alfred back. “It’s no problem,” he whispered back.

And then the two watched the stars in silence, shoulders pressed against each other’s, and Arthur’s chest aching for something more but Alfred didn’t do anything, except looking at Arthur with warm eyes and give him a soft smile every few seconds.

And Arthur swore he thought Alfred was blushing just as much as he was, but it was probably just a figment of his imagination.

 

***

 

The next morning, Arthur and Alfred discovered that the swelling on Alfred’s ankle had almost disappeared.

“Oh, look.” Arthur stared at Alfred’s ankle, which was stretched out towards him. Arthur placed the unused bandage next to it. “It’s almost healed. Should be back to normal in a few days.” He did his best to sound light about it, but his voice still sounded heavy. He prayed to whatever god was still on his side that Alfred didn’t notice.

Alfred’s face lit up at Arthur’s words. “Oh hey, you’re right. Guess that’s because of your amazing work, huh?”

Arthur’s face went scarlet at Alfred’s comment. Where had that come from? Was the idiot trying to flirt with him, or something? But judging by the confused look on Alfred’s face as he gazed back at Arthur’s reaction, Arthur decided Alfred was just trying to be nice. He berated himself for immediately jumping to such a conclusion; why would Alfred even reciprocate his feelings, anyway? He often teased Arthur about Arthur’s apparently hideous eyebrows (Arthur thought they looked just fine, though).

“Yeah, well, you gotta be more careful next time,” he said. “Only idiots fly around in storms. It reminds me of the stupid thing I did once a few years ago about this rabbit.”

Alfred tilted his head. “Wait, what? What happened?”

Arthur’s face flushed again. “I-it’s embarrassing!”

“Just tell me!” Alfred grinned, his eyes pleading.

Arthur cursed. How was he supposed to say no to that smile?

“Fine. When I was six, I tried rescuing a girl’s rabbit, but instead, I accidentally turned myself into a rabbit instead.”

Alfred stared at him for a moment, then barked out a laugh. “Wow, that’s so cute.”

Arthur’s cheeks flared. “That’s not funny!”

“Yeah, it is.” Sniggering, Alfred stood. “How did you change back?”

“I had to get my brother to do it. My brothers didn’t leave me alone for months.”

“That must’ve sucked.” Still chuckling to himself, Alfred glanced down at his ankle. “But still. You did an awesome job.” And before Arthur could stop him, he launched himself at Arthur, flinging his arms around Arthur’s shoulders and crushing him into a bear hug. Arthur’s heart jolted and his cheeks flared.

“L-let go of me!”

Alfred laughed and let go, dancing around the bedroom with a beam. He paused beside Arthur, still wearing that stupid beautiful grin, his eyes alight, and his cheeks red. And then he launched towards Arthur again, grabbing Arthur’s face and leaning towards him.

Arthur’s body went rigid and his heart flipped.

Alfred kissed Arthur’s forehead, and then whirled around and left the room.

“Thanks, Arthur!” Arthur heard him shouting from somewhere.

And Arthur stood frozen to the spot, mouth hanging open, butterflies in his stomach and heart pounding, and his face completely scarlet.

 

***

 

“So, guess this is it.” Alfred stood at the edge of the cliff, clutching a new broomstick in hand. He stared at Arthur, a soft smile on his face. Arthur stood still, his fists balled and wishing Alfred would just go. Why delay the inevitable?

“Yes, yes, go and do your hero work,” Arthur said, flapping his hand. “I have work to do.”

A sliver of hurt passed across Alfred’s face for a moment, but it was gone the next Arthur assumed he must’ve imagined it. _Stupid tired brain, trying to imagine what I want the most._ “Of course, you workaholic.” He flashed Arthur one of his beautiful smiles, before swinging a leg over his broomstick.

“Well, goodbye. I’ll come see you sometime soon, just like I promised.” He bent his knees and took off into the sky, hovering inches above the top of the lighthouse. “And thanks for everything!” He screamed, before laughing and shooting off into the distance.

Arthur watched him go, his heart heavy and mouth dry. Gritting his teeth he whirled around and rushed back into the lighthouse, hating that his eyes were prickling with tears, and hating the hollow feeling in his chest.

 

***

 

The weeks passed in a blur, Arthur throwing himself into his lighthouse duties (not a lot, but he tried to create more duties for himself) so he didn’t have to think about Alfred. Really, he was an idiot for letting himself fall that hard for the other wizard. One he’d probably never see again. Sure Alfred had promised he’d come back, but what were the chances, really? He’d probably marry the princess and forget all about Arthur.

One night, a storm blew in. Arthur lit the lantern for passing ships, and then went to the living room to read and listen to the rain and thunder. Just as he was reaching the climax of his novel, there was a knock on the lighthouse door.

Arthur frowned and placed his book on the table. Who in their right mind would be knocking on his door during a storm?

Sighing, he rose to his feet and went to answer it. As soon as he did, however, the figure darted inside, dripping water everywhere and laughing.

Wait, that laugh…

“Ugh, have I ever told you how much I hate rain?” Arthur could only stare with an open mouth as Alfred Franklin Jones hung up his raincoat and ran a hand through his wet blond hair. Arthur’s stomach flipped and he gulped. His hands trembled and he wiped them on his trousers—his palms had gone clammy.

“Take… please take your shoes off.” Arthur _hated_ himself for that being the first thing he said to Alfred, but he assumed it must’ve been because of the shock.

Alfred laughed again. “Of course, Artie.” And there was that stupid nickname again. He did as he was told, then walked down into the hallway as if he owned the place.

Arthur scrambled after him. “What… what are you doing here?” He noticed Alfred was walking completely normal, well, more with a swagger, but it seemed as if his ankle was fully healed. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief, glad to see Alfred wasn’t in any pain.

“I did it, that’s what!” Alfred turned towards him and gave him the thumbs-up. “The hero saved the day!” he added, with a wink.

Arthur frowned. “You saved Princess Elizabeta?”

Alfred nodded. “What, you living under a rock? Did that ages ago!”

Arthur blinked slowly. “Oh. Congratulations.” Despite the words, his voice still sounded hollow. He hoped Alfred didn’t notice; he didn’t want to damper Alfred’s cheery mode.

“Thanks.” But judging by the joy in Alfred’s voice, Alfred obviously didn’t notice. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief.

They continued staring at each other, before Arthur remembered his manners. His face flushed at his lack of politeness, and he quietly berated himself for getting distracted. “Ah, forgive me. Welcome. Follow me.”

He led Alfred into the living room, before turning back to him. “So, what brings you back here?”

“I told you. I promised you I’d come back when I saved the day.”

“But shouldn’t you be doing wedding preparations?”

Alfred stared at him for a moment, confused, then barked out a laugh. “What, are you proposing?”

Arthur almost choked on his spit. “P-pardon?”

“I already told you I have no plans to marry Princess Elizabeta. She asked, of course, but I turned her down.”

Arthur frowned. “Why would you _do_ that?”

“Because…” Alfred trailed off dramatically, looking at Arthur with a grin. “Everything I wanted is already here.”

Arthur blinked slowly, his mind going blank. Alfred peered back at Arthur with scarlet cheeks, his eyes glimmering with hopefulness.

“What… what do you mean?” Arthur asked, his voice sounding weirdly controlled. Butterflies swirled around in his stomach, and he couldn’t tear his gaze from Alfred, desperately watching every possible sign that indicated Alfred was joking.

But Alfred’s face remained sincere. “I… uh… I really…” He broke eye contact and looked and the ground. He blushed. “Like you, you know? Like, not like a friend or anything… I like you.”

Arthur stared at him, his mouth hanging open. Alfred shuffled a little closer, his hand reaching up towards Arthur’s face.

“Uh, could you… say something?” Alfred’s hand hovered inches from Arthur’s skin. Arthur’s heart pounded as he stared back at Alfred, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth.

“I…” He opened his mouth, the words dying on his lips.

A few seconds passed, and Alfred lowered his hand. His grin vanished and he frowned, his eyes turning downcast and his body slumping. “Oh, okay. That’s fine. I don’t… I don’t expect you to feel the same way about me. It’s fine if we just remain friends.”

His voice sounded so sad Arthur’s heart hurt. “W-wait.” Alfred glanced back at him.

Arthur sucked in a breath and approached Alfred, closing the distance between them. He reached up, running his hand along the back of Alfred’s neck. Alfred’s neck felt warm, and Alfred’s eyes widened, the blush immediately returning to his face.

“I, um, I… I fancy you, too.” Arthur had no idea how he managed to say it, but he did. But he didn’t dwell on it, because as soon as he said those words Alfred beamed, his face lighting up with happiness.

“Oh.” He let out a shaky laugh. “Oh!” He grabbed Arthur’s face and leaned towards him, his fingers stroking Arthur’s cheeks. Arthur closed his eyes, waiting to feel Alfred’s lips against his.

And a few seconds later he did. His heart hammered, and a warm fuzziness exploded inside Arthur, spreading through his limbs as he lifted his hand higher, tangling his fingers through Alfred’s hair. Alfred kept his hands on Arthur’s face. The kiss was soft and gentle, no tongues, but Arthur didn’t mind. Actually, he loved it.

They broke apart, Arthur still feeling fuzzy and warm. Alfred’s face was as red as Arthur’s, and he took a step backwards awkwardly, glancing at the ground.

“Uh, hey Art.” He glanced up again, an awkward smile passing across his face. “You look like art.”

Arthur snorted and rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

“What? I thought I sounded earnest!”

Chuckling, Arthur shook his head and leaned in towards Alfred, and this time it was his turn to initiate the kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos/comments are appreciated, including constructive criticism.


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